


The Day We Took Garfield Off Life Support

by GratefulBread69



Category: Garfield - All Media Types
Genre: Afterlife, Death, Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-27 02:33:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15676248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GratefulBread69/pseuds/GratefulBread69
Summary: The life and afterlife of Garfield. John deals with his sexuality.





	The Day We Took Garfield Off Life Support

JON  
  
I remember the day I took Garfield for a walk on the beach. Looking back, it was absurd to try and force Garfield to do much of anything except eat and sleep and shit all day. Garfield was a cat with a plump belly and a sarcastic sense of humor that not only made our relationship complicated, in fact sometimes I felt a great distance from him. I would often wonder why he was such a cynical cat and why I was addicted to seeking his favor when it was obvious the mechanism which sustained our relationship was a one-sided piece of manipulation. Still, I enjoyed my time with Garfield and when things got bad last spring, I made it easy on myself by saying he was a fat lazy asshole and perhaps the ultimate sleep was doing him a favor all along. I remember watching him suffer for months. Feline diabetes, and then we found the tumors. For the longest time I had a conception in my mind of what I wanted our relationship to be and was consistently disappointed when my expectations exceeded reality. I wanted Garfield to be a little hyper so that my slowly snowballing dependency on anti-anxiety medication and SSRIs would seem like not such a big deal. Again, I was projecting my inability to cope as well as my dissatisfaction with the course in which my life was taking onto Garfield, and I always think he resented me for it. Throughout this entire dilemma, our relationship I mean, I can’t fully say I regret it. And on the day we took Garfield off life support, I felt the familiar feeling of a void, a massive blackness encircled me and encompassed the entirety of my being just as so many times before. But who cares?  
In Milan Kudera’s enticing 1984 novel The Unbearable Lightness of Being, the notion of lightness versus heaviness is discussed. Kundera challenges Nietzsche’s notion of eternal recurrence, and posits that because we only have one life to live and do not return ad infinitum, this perspective colors our lives with an incredible lightness. So, our protagonist lives as if he had never lived at all, essentially freeing himself from a sense of guilty or duty, thereby acknowledging every choice as free and perfect regardless of the outcome. Kundera writes, “In the sunset of dissolution, everything is illuminated by the aura of nostalgia, even the guillotine.” Throughout my return to the memories of Garfield I have found this sentiment to be true. Indeed, even our most bitter moments now feel like my sweetest memories.  
Garfield died on a Saturday. Autumn leaves brushed against the veterinarian’s office window which somehow I thought was cliche at the time. That’s where my mind goes now and went then upon hearing the news. I thought about the weather outside and how cliche this scene had unfolded. When the mind experiences a trauma or extreme emotional heights, good or bad, perception seems clearer, more objective, at least for me. I had always considered my own mortality, how I wanted to be cremated, how people might remember me. I had never considered what Garfield’s death might be like. It was as if some great narrative had come to an end, like there was a story about us being told and it had just abruptly ended with no reconciliation between us, no opportunity for Garfield’s absolution, just the end.  
  
GARFIELD  
  
WAKE UP YOU STUPID FUCKING CAT YOU PIECE OF SHIT WAKE UP DON’T YOU REALIZE WHAT’S JUST HAPPENED ARE YOU ACTUALLY NOT PAYING ATTENTION DOESN’T THIS ALL FEEL STRANGE IN SOME WAY MAYBE DIFFERENT UNUSUAL UNFAMILIAR I COULD KEEP GOING ON AND ON BUT YOU SHOULD I HOPE GET THE GODDAMN MESSAGE NOW AND NOW ARE ARE YOU AWAKE ARE YOU BECAUSE YOU NEED TO LISTEN UP I’VE GOT SOME THINGS TO SAY TO YOU ARE YOU LISTENING JON’S DEAD ODIE’S DEAD AND NOW IT’S JUST US SO YOU BETTER NOT FUCK THIS UP i want some lasagna YOU STUPID FUCKING FAT PIECE OF SHIT THIS IS NOT THE TIME FOR FOOD OKAY WE ARE IN THE MIDDLE OF SOMETHING TRULY SPECTACULAR AND HORRIFIC SO WE NEED TO FIGURE OUT WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON AND MAKE SOME THINGS RIGHT but i’m hungry HOLY CHRIST THIS IS NOT THE TIME SPEAKING OF TIME HOW LONG HAVE WE BEEN OUT OF CONTACT WITH JON DO YOU THINK i don’t know i honestly can’t remember the last time we spoke because he wouldn’t give me any lasagna YOU’RE USELESS YOU HEAR ME USELESS SO NOW I’M GOING TO HAVE TO ASK AGAIN WHEN IS THE LAST TIME YOU’VE SEEN JON Perhaps it was at that vet’s office? I seem to remember him crying but it feels like forever ago and now I’m just hungry. WELL THAT’S A GODDAMN START I SUPPOSE lasagna now please HOLY CHRIST Wait, wasn’t I sick? Didn’t I have Die-A-beaties? YES I THINK YOU’RE RIGHT lasagna Well then could it be possible that I’m the one who’s dead and Jon and Odie are still alive? I SUPPOSE IT’S POSSIBLE BUT I’D REALLY NEED TO THINK ON THIS GOD I WISH THERE WAS SOMEONE ELSE WE COULD ASK lasagna SOMEONE WHO COULD AT LEAST GIVE US A DAMN HINT AS TO WHAT’S GOING ON WHAT’S HAPPENED AND WHAT WE DO NOW Perhaps, I think, we will never know. Regardless of our uncertainty, I think it imperative to remain calm and to try and relax for a while. WHAT THE FUCK Now I know, I know. Relaxing sounds like the last thing we wanna do right now, but until we have a clear mind nothing will get resolved. OKAY YOU’RE PROBABLY RIGHT I’LL TRY TO CALM THE FUCK lasagna DOWN Good. Now try and get some sleep.  
  
JON  
  
The first time I realized I was gay was in college. An exchange student named Fernando was living in the same dormitory as me and offered to repay me with dinner after helping him with some schoolwork. Fernando’s second language was English and I edited a paper of his, correcting minor grammatical errors and typos. Looking back, Fernando had a vastly superior intellect than I and I was just naive enough to believe that he truly did not notice his errors. Friday morning he turned in his paper and returned to the hall and knocked on my door, presenting his proposal of repayment for services rendered. I knew his intentions immediately when I asked him what’s for dinner and he leaned in and nearly whispered, “Spaghetti squash.” Healthy choice. That night we dined, drank some cheap red that was against dorm policy to have, and made love well into the early hours of the morning. The rest of the semester, Fernando and I made love three separate times, his body pulsing in and out of mine with an intense passion that only a young man who knows his time with his lover is limited and destined to end prematurely could ever possess. Of course, the semester ended and Fernando moved back to his native country (which I never got the name of nor any means of staying in contact, mainly because I was immature and didn’t know how to handle such a complicated sexual relationship) and we never spoke again. Sometimes I wonder if I could go back through some records at my university and find his full name and info and maybe reconnect, if only from a distance. Now that Garfield is gone, there’s going to be a pretty empty space in my daily routine. Life just isn’t as sweet anymore, which is odd because Garfield attempted to humiliate and belittle me at every opportunity. The sounds outside the window are crashing and boisterous. The wind carries these leaves and fallen twigs to my window; I can’t tell if to torment me or as gifts of peace and gentle reminders of the impermanence of all things. I tend to think it’s just some function of the human brain to see these things such as leaves against a window and interpret them as signs from some place beyond here. That’s got to be the same region of the brain where art is made. I’m so stupid sometimes. But I think I could really write something one day. Hell, I used to believe in God once upon a time, before he died.


End file.
